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globe, without being able to solve the mystery. The correspondent in London alone has the key, and the knowledge of the fact that he wrote 'crack of doom.' Telegraph-clerks, however, in the full heat and fervour of their driving, should not be held responsible for a knowledge of Shakspeare.

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Again, one might think that the House had forgotten its dignity, and the marvels of the olden time had again come back, upon seeing the statement in prominent type that 'Colonel Taylor, the Conservative Whip, has forty members on his back who are desirous of speaking in the great debate;' the words on his back' being, of course, a sapient substitution for 'on his book.' Paterfamilias may, if he be sedulous in politics, have to lament the questionable delicacy of such a sentence as: 'Mr. Lowe made a furious attack upon the Treasury Bench, and succeeded in touching the shirts of the government;' the latter being a transmogrification of 'vexing the skirts of the government.' In like manner, 'Each says' suffers a sea-change, and comes forth to the sun as Sach says,' and is looked upon as the name of a possible German professor. Grammarians not unfrequently have their parsing powers tested by the examination of such sentences as these: The weather at Newmarket to-day was so favourable, the sky being

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dull and clouded, while torrents of rain fell very frequently, much interest attached to the Biennial, Friponnier's defeat was the topic on the course.'

Amusing incidents also crop up incidentally in connection with the wires. The London correspondent of one of the newspapers has a room at one of the telegraph stations in which he does his work and superintends the wire generally. The station in question is situated within a building containing a large range of chambers and public offices. The outer door leading to the various landings is closed at night, and a hall-porter is stationed on duty to attend to visitors. Upon one occasion, the hall-porter fell asleep, and the correspondent rang the bell in vain; he was unable to procure admittance. Far aloft, near the top of the building, the telegraph-clerk plied his vocation beyond the reach of the vexing influence of the bell. Peacefully the hall-porter enjoyed the oblivious repose of his great stuffed chair; all the bells of Bow would not have awakened him from the serenity of his dreams. The correspondent was in despair; time was going fast, and in a little time his special information would be of no avail. In a moment of inspiration, the thought suddenly struck him to ask the people in Glasgow to open the door in London. He rushed to a telegraph-office, and desired the clerk in Glasgow

to telegraph to the clerk in London that the porter was asleep, and the door barred. This was done. The clerk, sitting high aloft in his cage at the top of the mansion, immediately left his instrument, descended and awoke the porter; the door was opened, and the heavy stone of anxiety was rolled away from the mind of the tremulous correspondent.

The

An experience of an equally humorous character befell the same gentleman on another occasion. The London clerk was telegraphing furiously to Glasgow one night, when he discovered that his colleague in that city was paying no heed to his messages. It is customary for the man at one end to send back repeating signals to the man at the other, to show that all is going well. On the night in question, however, no such signals came. transmitter in London demanded the reason, and asked whether the receiver was not at his post; but there was no response-the wire was dumb. Suddenly, the secret flashed upon the mind of the correspondent: the clerk at Glasgow was lying intoxicated by the side of his instrument! The indefatigable correspondent rushed off to another telegraph-office, and despatched a message to his employers, telling them from London what they did not know in Glasgow, that their clerk was asleep; and in the course of a short time the special wire was working with its accustomed regularity.

THE STORY OF THE FOGBOROUGH
ENGLISHMAN.

THERE'S nothing like a good name,' said Mr. Cuttle, the wholesale cheesemonger; 'and I goes in for the best of all names. I'm an Englishman myself, and I say an Englishman let it be.' And then the worthy man thumped the table with emphasis, and looked round for the applause which was due to his patriotic speech.

'Don't you think that's rayther general?' said Mr. Meek, the haberdasher of Pulpit Place in a diffident tone.

'General, sir!

What do you mean?

You're

not general, are you? And you're an Englishman?' The eminent Cuttle objected to Mr. Meek on principle. He's only 'alf-an'-'alf,' he was wont to say by way of explaining his sentiments towards the haberdasher. My opinion is he wouldn't mind goin' over to the Blues if he could make it pay.'

Now, I am not prepared to vouch for the complete relevancy of Cuttle's retort upon Meek; but

it is at least certain that like Malvolio's wound, it was 'enough,' and we all agreed without more ado that the name of the new 'organ' of the Radical party of Fogborough should be 'the Englishman.' And the Englishman' it was.

'I proposes,' said Mr. Cuttle, after a while, 'that young Green there look after the editorial part of the organ. He's plenty of time on his hands, and he ought to be doin' somethin' for the party.'

This was the way in which it came to pass that I found myself described in the prospectus of the 'Fogborough Englishman Company (Limited),' as managing director. My proper business was with the law; but at the call of one's country, or at least of one's party, a man must be ready to make some sacrifice. Everybody knew that in the firm of Green and Son, I made but an insignificant figure. My father did the real work; and I was looked upon as an appendage, ornamental perhaps, but certainly not useful, to the business. Enough of myself, however. This is the story of the 'Fogborough Englishman,' and not of Thomas Green the Younger.

Of all the harassing months I ever spent in my life, that which preceded the first appearance of what old Cuttle insisted upon calling 'the organ,' was the worst. A man who is about to be married,

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